Our Doomed Beauty
by Shalla Bal
Summary: Picks up a few weeks after the Season 1 finale. Skye and Ward grapple with their feelings for each other and the possibility, or impossibility of his redemption. When Coulson allows Ward out for an important mission alongside Skye, they have a chance to face the issue head on. Skyeward!
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: Problem**

**Skye**

Life is pretty good right now, or it should be. We took down Garrett while doing major damage to Hydra, and we came out the other side almost totally intact. Coulson's even in charge of rebuilding SHIELD as its director, and I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming. _Sweet._

Still, the damage that Hydra caused is impossible to forget. They destroyed SHIELD's credibility, and it's going to take long, hard work to get that back. Too bad for them that they couldn't see the impossibility of breaking our spirit. That SHIELD, even reduced to a mere _idea_, was stronger than they'd ever be. But in the meantime, they broke into our ranks and put a traitor in our midst who we thought was a trusted friend. Thanks to Ward's betrayal, his inability to comprehend the line between right and completely effing insane wrong, Fitz has been in a wheelchair for weeks and is lucky he even survived. I have to fight back tears every time I walk by his room and see Simmons sitting with him, holding his hand, even reading to him, or laughing over some shared geek joke. The wounds we all feel are fresh and they are gonna hurt like hell for the foreseeable future.

That's why I don't get it. Why do I come down here every night? I keep telling myself I won't, but then I can't sleep unless I go to him.

He doesn't know I'm here. Ward, that is. I just stand outside his cell and _think_ about going in, looking into those hollow eyes of his and asking so many questions. Like _why? _What was it all _for? _ If he and Garrett had won, what was the endgame? What did Ward even want with the world that he was so content to help his crazy mentor take it over? Sure, I'd ask those, but even if I did go in, I don't think I would have the guts to ask the questions that haunt me the most.

How could I have felt so drawn to a murderous psychopath twisted and brutal enough to do the things he did? I'm relieved that he'll never know the depth of what I felt for him before I knew his true colors. Honestly, it would've taken me ages to admit I was actually falling for Ward, even if we'd had a shot and he wasn't pure evil. Because frankly, I'm kind of a commitment phobe and the idea of exposing my inner vulnerability to someone who could crush me was and is abhorrent. So lucky for me I kept my walls up, my mask of casual, "hey, I just kissed you because there was a 97 percent chance you might die" bravado. But even though my pride survived, it obliterated my heart when I learned the truth about Ward. Not just because I was terrified about who I must be if I was stupid enough to have feelings for a monster parading around pretending to be a human being. This leads me to my current dilemma.

I'm past the stupid part now and onto something _so_ much worse. Never mind that I didn't see through Ward's act until it was almost too late to stop him. I stopped him. Well, with some help, but I was a big part of the takedown and that should bring me peace. But no. No peace.

Never mind stupid or blind or naive. The question I most want to ask Ward is the one I know I can't because it contains pure destructive power such as I have never known. So I stand here outside his cell every night, feeling his presence through the walls. And I ask myself instead.

_Why do I still love him?_

**Chapter One: I'm trouble**

**Ward**

I know she's out there. _Screw it_.

"I know you're out there, Skye," I call, sounding teasing and malicious, and like none of the things I feel. The real me is someone I know almost nothing about, but I do know he's lonely and yearning for the one person in the world he feels anything for. But she'll never understand.

Let's face it, I don't exactly make it easy, do I?

"How do you know that?" She asks after a long pause. She must have been weighing her curiosity against the appeal of slipping silently away. I'm glad the former won out.

"I can smell you," I admit, even though it makes me sound like some perverted brute. The cell might be impervious to any of my escape attempts, but there is a slot in the door where my meals come in, and I'm sitting on the floor right below it, my back against the wall that she's right on the other side of. Like a bitter metaphor of our entire situation. I once had a chance to get through her defenses, get her to love me. Now that's shot to hell.

"Bullshit," Skye declares bluntly.

"Untrue," I counter, "I can smell that shampoo you always wear. It's raspberry, right?"

"Damn you, Bath and Body Works. Foiled again." Ha. God, she's funny. And adorable. And sexy. I'm such an asshole.

"Why do you come here, Skye?" Now I can hear the honesty in my own voice, the neediness of the question.

"Just making sure you're still locked up nice and tight, where you can't hurt anyone else," she says cooly, easily. Too easily.

"Simple as that, huh?" I can't help the mockery. That's what it is gonna to take to piss her off enough to bring her close. "Why don't you come in here and tell me how you _really _feel?"

Another pause. Then, _click_. The turn of the lock. And Skye stands before me in all her glory, complex emotion glimmering in her stunning brown eyes, lovely hair tumbling free over her shoulders. And what is she _wearing_?

She closes the door behind her. For the first time, I love that sound. We're alone.

"Are you in your _pj's_?" I inquire with a grin. I don't think I've smiled since the last time I saw her, right before May took out my voice. It's back now, but sounds a tinge raspy still.

She glares down at me, majestic even in her grey cotton top with a picture of a cartoon teddy bear and black and white polka dot pants, Converse stuffed on over wooly sleep socks. "It's 2am."

"Can't sleep?" I cross my arms and give her my very best smoldering look. She rolls her eyes.

"Can't sleep unless I know for sure you're in here on lockdown," Skye retorts. Her face is so sad, though. It makes my heart ache.

"I think you come here every night just to be close to me," I posit, standing up but keeping a respectful distance. For now.

"You think wrong," she assures me. "Ward, I can't even wrap my mind around what a _black hole _you are, that you were okay with hitching your horse to someone like Garrett. But no matter what made you so freaking evil, you got there. And you killed innocent people. _SHIELD agents_. If you were redeemable at all, you would've stopped before crossing that line. Or tossing FitzSimmons into the damned ocean."

She spits that last part at me so hatefully that I almost flinch. Skye couldn't know how agonized I had felt at that moment when I released FitzSimmons' pod and sent them to only maybe-death. At that time, I was convinced that even in leaving them a sliver of a chance at living, I was the worst kind of weakling. Yet the thought of hurting those two was like a dagger to my soul. I just couldn't put the pieces together fast enough to come up with another solution. The longer I sat here in this cell thinking about my past actions, the more I hated myself for blindly following Garrett, simply because the man was the only home I'd ever known. That was why Coulson had been so damn gung-ho to leave me stewing here, I knew. I begrudgingly respected his wisdom in this, as in all things. Too bad I never had someone like him to show me the way until it was too late.

"Make no mistake, Skye, I'm trouble. All day, every day. Have been since birth. But guess what?" Unwilling to make myself any more defenseless to her disdain by admitting my recent realizations, my regrets, I just dig the hole even deeper. It's what I'm good at. "That means that somewhere deep inside you, there's a bad girl lurking. Because you still want me."

"You're delusional," Skye insists, shaking her head in revulsion, disgust. And something else...guilt? _What? _In all my bragging and prattling on just to keep her in the same room while protecting myself from thinking _too _hard about my own villainy, I'd failed to really believe my own words about her. But what if Skye does still feel something for me? The hope that ignites within me is so painfully beautiful that it pushes me towards her before I know what I'm doing.

"Skye," I murmur, dropping my facade of smirking egotism in an instant. I reach out and brush my hand gently against her warm, soft cheek, watching the coldness flee from her eyes as she comes _this close _to leaning into my touch before she jerks away.

"Don't touch me," Skye snaps harshly, grabbing for the door.

"Come back soon," I say, trying to revert to my smooth persona but finding myself pleading instead.

"I'll never come back here," Skye replies, exiting in a huff.

Okay. So I'll just have to find another way to get to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Down the rabbit hole**

**Skye**

"Hi _director_," I greet Coulson with a huge, cheesy grin, laughing at his wince as he instantly indicates that I should take the praise for his promotion down a few notches. Truth be told, it's Coulson and my other friends on the team who keep my head above water while my heart plumbs murky depths. I need to try and get that old spring back in my step, throw myself into some new task I can do to help our cause. I have to remember who I am and put Ward out of my mind for good.

"Good morning, Skye," Coulson says with a quiet smile. He has settled into his office in the secret bunker where we've set up shop while we work on reassembling SHIELD. "I wanted to talk with you alone for a few minutes. There's an important mission that only you can complete."

"Yes!" I crow, pumping my fist as I sink into a swivel chair. This is _just _what I need. "This must be my lucky day."

"Try and hold onto that can-do attitude. The next part, you're not gonna like. The mission involves Ward."

I can tell by Coulson's no-nonsense expression that he isn't kidding. Lucky day? Not so much.

Though I grimace instinctively at the sound of my quasi-ex's name (me and Ward? We were almost in a relationship, and it was complicated), I nod anyway. If it is something we need to do to rebuild SHIELD and kick Hydra ass, I'm on board. Fried nerves and hammering heartbeat be damned. "What do I need to do?"

"We've received new intel on a gaggle of Hydra agents who are planning an attack on American soil. They want to make moves against the government, get one step closer to taking over. We know where the cabal is currently holed up. Now, these agents don't know about Garrett's death. No one outside of our team knows where he is right now - which is, of course, blown to smithereens."

"Nice shot," I congratulate him heartily.

"Thanks. So anyway," Coulson continues, sliding a folder across the desk to me, "Ward can get in there. Through him, we can find out what Hydra's next play is. And because of your former...association with Ward, I believe you are the agent best suited to be in charge of him on the trip. He will remain in cuffs almost until the moment he enters the Hydra lair, and will be placed back into them once you have gathered your information."

"How do we know Ward won't turn on me the second he's back with his old cronies?" I am feeling dubious, to say the least.

"First of all, and I'm sorry to have to take advantage of this fact, but we both know he won't turn on you because it's _you._ Your own safety is guaranteed by virtue of Ward's-"

"Don't say feelings," I implore.

"Fixation?" Coulson tries. I shrug uncomfortably.

"Okay, but what if he cuts me loose but still rejoins Hydra and gives them intel on us?" I can foresee a million ways for this thing to go sideways in a flash.

"I'm sending Trip with you two," Coulson says. "He will pretend to have been in on Garrett's schemes all along, and he will keep Ward firmly in check."

"So why don't you just send_ them_?" I don't get it. "Why is it so important that I go?"

"We can't offer Ward any deals," Coulson explains, "when he returns, it's back in the cell until the next time we need him. But the offer of a few days on the outside, interacting with you? That's the hook that will bait him."

"I would _much _rather be valued for my technical skills than as a chess piece used for emotional manipulation," I complain, fuming a little bit.

"Skye, we'd be lost without your skills," Coulson assures me, handing me a flash drive. "We need you to suck the Hydra computers dry of every secret they contain. It won't be easy to get past their password protections and encryptions."

"Finally, something I can get excited about," I mutter, still a little deflated.

"Skye, I hate that we have to play on Ward's obsession with you to get this done. If there were another way..."

"I get it," I snap, too angrily. I squeeze my eyes shut for a sec and let out a long sigh. "No, really," I add, looking up into Coulson's sympathetic, apologetic eyes, "I understand. I'll do it all."

"Be very careful," Coulson warns me, dead serious. "Ward's gonna try to get inside your head, coerce you to release him."

"He can't get inside my head. I won't let him." Brave words. If only I believed them. But even if Ward does have some bizarre ability to throw my emotions into a tailspin, I would never endanger the whole freaking world by letting him off his leash. And if there's one thing I excel at, it's concealing my own…._fixation _on Grant Ward. Shudder.

"Good," Coulson says, looking convinced.

I glance down at the folder with the mission details inside and make note of the letters scrawled on one side in red sharpie: "Confidential."

"Don't you have one of those big stamps?" I ask, referring to the handwritten label.

"Would you believe they don't sell those in the standard office supply catalogs?" Coulson grins. "Anyway, that information is top secret." Right. Meaning that just me, Coulson, and Triplett know about the mission. I have a feeling May would be vehemently opposed to the mere idea of such a gambit, so I doubt she'll be in the loop on this.

"Got it," I confirm and turn on my heel, grateful that a small moment of shared humor at our simplistic amenities has punctured the tension that seemed to fill the air as I pondered the mission. But as soon as I get outside the door, I feel the pressure mounting once more. Can I get through this?

I have to. This is the best way to prove that I can forge on, past the whole problem of Ward, using him as a means to an end just as he used all of us.

Boarding a small plane the next day, I have my doubts. We'll be flying over the location in D.C. where Hydra's lair is located, then parachuting down. I settle into my seat across from Ward and avoid those big brown eyes that seem to have x-ray vision into my soul. Why does he have to look so pure and good, his chiseled features much more suggestive of the dedicated patriot and selfless soldier he seemed to be when I first met him? It's a mean lie, a deception that has left ruined lives in its wake.

"Don't you worry about a thing," Agent Triplett reassures me from his own seat. "I've got my eye on this S.O.B. and he won't be pulling any fast ones today."

"I'm sitting _right here_, guys," Ward points out, rolling his eyes at Trip but then winking at me.

"This isn't a pleasure cruise," I remind Ward, annoyed beyond belief already. This does not bode well for our ability to work together long enough to get inside Hydra and retrieve what we needed. "Sit back and shut up."

Directly disobeying me, that glimmer of mischief alive and well in his eyes, Ward leans forward and speaks to me conspiratorially. "What do you say we ditch this loser and go elope somewhere?"

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "You're not exactly marriage material, Ward. Offense intended. And anyway, I'm not the marrying kind of girl." Hey, why did I tell him that? It's personal. I need to distract myself, so I open my tablet and stare down at something, anything to get the message across that I am done talking.

"We can change all that," Ward suggests. But in spite of his confident swagger, there's that awful emptiness apparent in everything about him that reminds me he is a fundamentally broken person. For whatever reason, since shedding his "Grant Ward, Agent of SHIELD" persona of being gruff with a heart of gold, Ward's go-to defense mechanism seems to be acting as if he has the world on a string.

He clearly wants everyone to believe that everything that he has been a part of, from his traumatic childhood (I can tell he wasn't lying about that) to his tutelage by Garrett and all of the horrors that brought about… that everything is just _fine_ by him. Even though his smile is forced and the aforementioned gorgeous brown eyes contain a desperation I bet even Ward himself can't figure out or get a handle on. Even though I wonder if there is a part of him, however small, that wishes he really had been on the level with the team. That he had not allowed the mindset of years spent being manipulated by Garrett to lead him to kill Victoria Hand or Eric Koenig. Or to hurt Fitz and Simmons.

But this is just speculation on my part, urged on by that silly piece of me that still wants to believe there could be good in Ward. I'm fooling myself, but this is one deception that comforts me - in a twisted way - too much for me to let it go. It's a masochistic way of thinking, and I'm hoping that eventually, it will simply fade away.

Once we hover above our destination, I slip my parachute on and watch anxiously as Trip removes Ward's handcuffs. Though a gun is obviously not an option to keep Ward on good behavior while we are up here, Trip does have a blade bared and at the ready in case he acts up, while I step forward and hand Ward a chute.

"See you on the ground," I nod to Trip right before he steps nonchalantly into open air. I'm terrified for this sky dive myself, but having Ward here kind of makes jumping less scary than staying in close quarters with him. So I urge him forward and once he's clear, I make my own exit.

My heart pounds as I float downward in a deceptively slow way, and I feel an immense relief as soon as I am able to pull the cord and feel the safety of the chute opening to guide me smoothly down. However, glancing to one side, I see that Ward's chute never opened. He's just heading downward in a freefall. Without a second thought, I begin trying to urge my body towards him so that he doesn't fall to his death, and finally, painstakingly, it becomes possible and my fingers clutch at his jacket. Ward's eyes flit upward and he accepts the assist, wrapping his arms around me as we near the ground.

His weight drags us both downward in unison, as he stumbles backwards and falls onto his back with me above him, the parachute fluttering softly around us like a shelter from the outside world. Oddly, Ward's face is calm and peaceful then, despite the danger he just went through, and he reaches up wordlessly to move a strand of hair out of my eyes.

"That was incredibly stupid," I accuse him. "Why didn't you pull your cord?"

"Of course I pulled my cord," Ward insists, "the chute must've been defective. It never opened. You saved me, Skye. You're the only one who _can_ save me."

"Whatever that means," I reply tersely, bewildered by the chaotic tumult of what has just occurred.

"I have a better question, actually," Ward states, lapsing from seriousness to smirking once more. "Why are you still on top of me?"

Frustrated, I get up and release the chute from my back, willing my heart to stop hammering quite so ruthlessly and praying that I can get through the rest of this mission without any more close encounters with Grant Ward. Leaning back down, I replace the handcuffs on his wrists, which he reaches out voluntarily.

"Skye," Ward says, standing up beside me, "Do you think we can actually pull this off?"

"I think that me and Trip can pull it off brilliantly," I answer briskly. "And you're just here for decoration and because you don't have a choice, or a life left anymore for that matter. So let's get this over with." I grab his elbow and move him towards where Triplett is waiting a short distance away, wishing that I truly felt the hatred for Ward which rolls so easily off my tongue.

At any rate, it's time to put my personal reflections aside and focus on the mission. The hideout is nearby and we can't waste time.

"Let's do this," I say, marching forward resolutely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Stop me**

**Ward**

It's easy enough to get in. When we get closer to the hideout, Skye takes off my cuffs and scowls at my flirty bondage reference. What? I waited a long time before I took it there.

When we show up at the door, the retina scan verifies me as true blue Hydra and we head on in. Oddly, seeing some of my former associates makes me feel damn unsettled, like I don't want Skye to see me talking and joking with these murderous psychotic thugs. Worse, it's almost like_ I _don't even want to talk to them. Like I'm sick of this game. I knew Hydra was a crock well past it's losery sell-by date when I joined up, but Garrett had always assured me there was a higher purpose and that associating with these scumbags was a means to an end. Now I have to wonder whether he ever had a plan beyond saving his own ass, and it makes me feel like an idiot. But what other entity in this _world _did I ever have a chance to put my faith into before Garrett came along? Skye's right, I was weak. Now I'm waking up to that fact, and man, that is one rude alarm clock.

Could I be more than the sum of Frankenstein parts that Garrett sewed together to make his convenient little surrogate son and henchman? _Am _I more than just some programmable zombie too damaged from a childhood of unfathomable hurt to save himself from an abyss of depravity?

I have to stop thinking like this. There's no hope for me. That's why there's only here and only now, and whatever minuscule, fragile connection I can feel with Skye to tide me over.

I introduce Triplett as my good buddy and launch into some high octane bullshit about new orders from Garrett while Skye sneakily investigates the specific room I told her houses the motherlode of Hydra intel...because it _is _in that room and I have no problem giving her full access or whatever else she wants, ever. It's taking every bit of remaining dignity I still have to maintain the ruse of trying to harass, intimidate, or tease her. My heart is broken in nine billion places every time she flinches away from me.

"That's a damn cute IT girl you got there," one of the Hydra goons cackles, winking at me. Before he can ask if I'm tapping that, because I know that's where this is going and I don't want to have to mortally wound him, I change the subject.

"Garrett will be back in touch shortly," I lie smoothly. "Be prepared to move immediately once you hear from him."

Unfortunately, another Hydra goon, an especially vile specimen named Kyle, comes stalking in with Skye. Her arms are pinned behind her back and Kyle is pissed.

"I caught this bitch hacking into our mainframe," Kyle announces. He pulls Skye's arms even tighter and I grit my teeth, trying to keep it together. Beside me, I feel Triplett tense and prepare to spring into action. He sucks at selling a cover.

"Aww, let her go, Kyle," I suggest in a voice equally laced with humor and menace. "She's just doing her job. Chill out. Since when are you some tech ace?"

"I found a virus," Skye invents, "I was just trying to fix it before the whole world could ferret out our secrets."

"Does that not sound important to you?" I ask, holding my hands up in a confident gesture of "we're all pals here" that falls short of its goal.

But I was wrong about Triplett because he sizes up the crash and burn perfectly and moves to avert total failure with an aptitude that surprises me.

"What the hell, man?" Trip asks me, getting right in my face and looking livid. "Have you turned on Hydra?"

"It sure looks that way," observes goon #1, aka Smith. He has a gun aimed at Skye in an instant, the same amount of time it takes me to step in front of her. When her eyes meet mine, there's a new confusion there I can't quite read.

When Smith moves to grab me, I knock his weapon out of his hands and brutally apply every bit of my hand-to-hand combat skills to incapacitate him, knowing that both he and Kyle will have to be taken into SHIELD custody now so that we can smooth this over and prevent the higher-ups from figuring out we've hacked them.

Wait, _"__we__"_? I'm not SHIELD anymore and I never was. I'm losing the thread here, or it lost me.

A few more Hydra agents come rushing in, much to my extreme annoyance. As Smith falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, guns are raised all around us and I have just a second to react when someone pulls the trigger on Skye. I push her out of the way and let the bullet strike me instead. It hits my arm and I look over my shoulder to make sure Skye is safe.

"Enough," Triplett shouts, halting the pandemonium. "Lock 'em up. Let's report back and await further orders."

I know that Skye's usb loaded into their system a tricky little program she conceived to mislead Hydra agents into thinking they are sending updates back to their leaders, when really the information will feed back to SHIELD and garner a fake response back from Coulson and the gang. It's virtually undetectable and will take Hydra a while to figure out. We have that working for us, anyway.

Next thing I know, me and Skye are being locked in a cell and I'm just hoping Triplett is as good at jailbreaks as he is at deception.

"Great, locked up _again_," I whine, shaking my head as the door is slammed in my face. "There must be something about me that just screams 'put me behind bars.'"

"You have no one but yourself to blame for that," Skye reminds me, crossing her arms. "Are you even going to_ react_ to that bullet wound, tough guy?" Sarcastic. Annoyed. Like it was dumb of me to go and get shot. Is there even a tiny amount of sympathy left in that beautiful gaze of hers for me? Why _should_ there be? Maybe I'm as crazy as they all think I am for even suspecting it's possible.

"Wasn't planning on it," I admit, wincing now because she reminded me that I've been shot.

"Here," Skye says with a trademark eye roll and a heavy sigh. She pulls off her flannel shirt, leaving just a snug-fitting camisole underneath.

"Shut up," she orders me, reading my appreciative glance all too accurately. Then she rips off a long strip of fabric from the shirt. The bullet passed through my arm, so there's basically just the issue of oozing blood. She dabs and wipes at the wound carefully using the shirt and then tosses it aside, tightly wrapping the torn-off strip around my arm to stop the bleeding.

"Don't worry," I say reassuringly, "Triplett will get us out. The others still think he's Hydra, and thanks to that program you left on their computers, Coulson will know what's going on, too."

"Yeah," Skye nods, as if this is all obvious. Something else is ticking along in her mind, another topic she's carefully analyzing before speaking again. "What's going on with you, anyway, Ward?"

"Can you be more specific?" I request, sitting down on an uncomfortable metal bench and cradling my arm.

"Sure," she agrees in a deceptively light tone. "Do you have a death wish?"

"_Me_?" I ask, as if the idea is too ridiculous to grant credence.

"_You_. What happened when we parachuted in? Why didn't you pull your cord?"

"I told you, I pulled my cord," I argue feebly.

"I don't believe you," Skye retorts angrily. Why is she so mad? "And what the hell was that a few minutes ago, with you basically volunteering to be shot?"

"Hey, I was protecting you," I defend myself. "I wasn't going to let you get shot. Not again." The memory of the time she was almost killed by Ian Quinn still terrifies me.

"Maybe that was part of it," Skye acknowledges.

"You're welcome," I quip, but I avert my eyes from her questioning look.

"You didn't turn to one side to catch the bullet with your arm. You just stood there head-on aimed at it like a frozen target. It was just pure luck that you didn't end up shot in the heart. I think you're_ trying_ to get killed on this mission." Skye glares at me, accusatory. Seething, actually.

"Fine, whatever," I confess. "I don't exactly relish going back to SHIELD 2.0 and getting locked away for the rest of my life, knowing you're all out there going about your lives, hating me for all of my mistakes. Knowing that everything I fought for was a lie. Knowing _you _will never see me as anything more than a monster."

The enormity of admitting all of this out loud is momentarily too embarrassing for me to handle, so I get up and pace around a little bit while Skye stands there and bores her eyes into me, infuriated.

"So, let me get this straight," she says. "You're trying to die so that you don't have to _deal _with the consequences of your actions? Could you possibly be any more thoughtless and immature?"

"I'm willing to die because I'm miserable and lost and _scared_." Hearing those words come out of my mouth so easily makes me realize again the sheer power Skye has over me. Now I'm completely exposed and totally humiliated.

Skye strides over to me, looking like a perfect angel with her soft features expressing some inscrutable blend of conflicted emotions. Then she hauls back and slaps me in the face as hard as she possibly can. I actually stagger backwards a little bit, mostly out of surprise.

I'm still blinking in astonishment from her assault when Skye grabs my face aggressively in her hands and kisses me. The razor of pained happiness that seems to slice into my heart at that moment is overwhelmingly intense. I wrap my good arm around her waist, fingering the material of her smooth, thin cotton camisole and lifting the shirt to touch the warm skin underneath. Skye moans a little bit and leans further into my embrace, kissing me more deeply, pressing her body against mine unrelentingly.

Off in the distance, we hear an object clatter to the floor with a loud metallic clang and our mouths part from each other for a moment. It's just some random occurrence elsewhere in the building, but the noise has broken the spell between us. I keep holding onto Skye anyway and stare into her eyes, my own expression totally bereft of all defenses. What's going on with us, and what does it mean? What is she thinking?

Skye breathes deeply a few times, not moving away from me, her brow furrowing, her hand pressed against my pounding heart.

She seems incapable of speech, so maybe I should talk now. But what can I possibly say? Only one thing occurs to me.

"Skye," I murmur huskily, "I love you." There go the words, and now there's no taking them back. If I thought I was scared before, that was nothing compared to this moment. My heart in my throat, I wait for her answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: devils don't fly.**

**Skye**

It's not some random noise we heard. Actually, it's SHIELD, and when Coulson and May come storming in, Ward and I are still standing close together and my lips are tingling from his kisses. My head feels like it's on fire and there's a madly inappropriate joy resounding within me that collides with my instincts for common sense and self-preservation. It makes me want to laugh, cry, scream, punch Ward in the gut, get him to say he loves me again, run away, and make love to him right here and now. You know, if we were alone. But we are _so _not alone.

"Uh..." Coulson begins awkwardly as they halt in front of our cell.

May is smoldering with anger, most likely hating the idea of the mission and even more pissed off seeing the weird, intimate vibe between Ward and me. She doesn't want me to become embroiled with a traitorous fiend, and I know she's just looking out for my best interests. How can I even disagree with her reasoning? She's literally been there, done that.

May gets to work placing a small digital device on the door that unlocks it and springs us loose. Ward doesn't say a word, just holds his hands out for the cuffs. May slaps them on and takes him roughly by the arm, leaving me standing behind with Coulson.

"Thanks for the rescue," I say sincerely, trying to shake off the daze I'd been thrown into by the last five minutes of my life.

Opting not to address the elephant in the room, Coulson says nothing about Ward, but remarks, "Good work. Triplett filled us in on everything, and Hydra won't have a clue that their facility was compromised. That's because you managed to get your program into their system, and now we have an insight into their proceedings we never did before. That's an advantage we'll want to capitalize on as soon as possible."

I nod and reply, "I have some ideas about how we might do that."

"I'm listening," Coulson says, an interesting blend of patience, respect, and suspicion playing across his features.

"You're not gonna like my proposal," I announce with an ironic smile. "It involves Ward."

**Several hours later...**

"_No_," May objects aggressively, "hell no."

Coulson exhibits no surprise, and I don't feel any either. I've just outlined a plan I concocted after reviewing some of the intel we pulled from Hydra thanks to my interrupted-too-late hacking. Turns out that a few choice top-ranking politicians are advancing Hydra's agenda by giving a presentation at a black-tie government function where they will show off alien tech that they want to have weaponized, supposedly to protect the US, but really to gain more power for themselves.

I want to crash this event, undercover again, and steal the tech before Hydra can convince lawmakers to approve its use. We'll need a whole team, clearly, and I think Ward should be with us. His knowledge of Hydra methods and his ability to smooth-talk his former associates are too valuable not to use again.

And yeah, I want to keep him near me, selfishly. I don't want him thrown into the darkness to rot and now I've faced the fact that I never really did. The fear that he could've killed himself all too easily and I might not have stopped him in time...that fear won't let me lie to myself anymore. But some of my motivations don't need to be verbalized. May's angry enough just at the barest implication that Ward is still an asset to us.

"Sir, we can't allow Ward out again," Simmons puts forth, then gives me an apologetic glance. "Sorry, Skye. I know your intentions are good, but he can't be trusted."

"I can keep him in check," I claim confidently.

"Just do it, just use Ward," Fitz suggests, crossing his arms with an air of sullen resignation. "I have more reason to hate him than any of you, but even I don't see the point of wasting a valuable tool on a mission like this."

"Agreed," Coulson says finally. May bristles, knowing his decision is definitive.

"Skye, you're in way over your head," May tells me. Her voice is icy but I see the worry and concern in her eyes.

"Everyone, can I have a moment alone with Skye to iron out some details?" Coulson requests, and the room clears a little too quietly, the air full of tension, hopes, and anxieties.

"You can't allow your feelings for Ward to compromise you as an agent," Coulson says to me when we are alone. His kind, yet stern face tells me he knows the line I'm walking and how treacherous it is.

"I asked you not to say 'feelings'," I remind him uncomfortably.

"I can't ignore the obvious, no matter how much I trust you," Coulson explains. "You can't forget what Ward has done. Not ever."

"You don't think I'm really capable of that."

Coulson waits a beat. "No, I don't. But I think you're capable of losing sight of it."

"Fitz is right in front of me every day," I remind him bluntly. What better reminder is there of the need to keep _myself _in check, no matter how I feel about Ward?

"Go," Coulson says, conceding my point, clearly seeing the strength of our new mission plan and still trying to balance it with the whole massive problem of Ward. He trusts me, and I won't undervalue or disrespect that trust. I will live up to it. I have to. "Brief Ward," Coulson directs me.

"Sir," I say, turning back, trying out a title I rarely use to address Coulson. This is that serious and important. "My allegiance and loyalty are to SHIELD. Ward is a prisoner we can use as an asset. He's also an issue I have to solve on my own terms and I don't know yet what that means. I _promise_ you," I say tremulously, "I will do the right thing. Whatever that is."

"Okay, Skye," Coulson agrees. "Keep me apprised." His nod tells me that he can believe me and keep a questioning eye on me at the same time. Frankly, I have to admit that might be the best thing for everyone.

**The next day****…**

"Hey," Ward says when I let myself into his cell. He's sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, just like the last time I was here. Everything else seems to have changed immensely since then. I toss the file down to him and wait as he sifts through its contents. After glancing back at the front of the folder, he asks, "You guys don't have a 'Confidential' stamp?"

"Are you coming or not?" I question, crossing my arms.

"Like I have a choice?" Ward replies, looking confused. "Of course I'm coming. The alternative is staying in here, apart from you, staring at the wall and thinking about all my deep-seated personal flaws. I think I'd rather get out there and _do _something…anything."

"But this isn't just anything," I remind him. "This is a chance for us to prevent Hydra from using alien technology to take over the world. It needs to be meaningful to you that we do this."

"Why?" Ward wonders, looking up at me as if he truly doesn't get it. "What's the point? I've already thrown away every shot I had to be…_good_." The word sounds weird and inconceivable coming out of his mouth.

"Some of those chances were taken away from you pretty early on in life," I observe, sensitive to the reality of Ward's sad saga. "It's not too late for you to try and be better."

"What are you saying?" Ward asks, rising to stand before me, taking my hands as I do nothing to prevent the physical contact.

"Make amends," I urge him. "It's the only way for you to go on living and be able to look at yourself in the mirror."

"It's the only way for us to be together," Ward adds, pressing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes for a moment.

I cup his face in my hands and stare into his eyes as they flicker back open. "Don't let that be the only reason," I implore him, "Do it because it's right."

"I don't know how to separate those things out," Ward admits with a chuckle that's somehow serious and self-deprecating.

"Think about the people who suffered from what you did. Think about our team, and what happened to SHIELD because of Hydra. You have to understand the damage you caused and feel sorry. Not to please me, not because you feel sorry for _yourself_. But because it's the right way to feel." I sound like I'm coaching him on how to be a human being, and I guess that's just the crazy reality of the situation. But actually, I also know that Ward _is_ sorry, but he routinely buries it inside himself to avoid the pain of dealing with the consequences for his actions.

Ward pulls me closer and I let his arms draw me in until my head rests on his shoulder. I'm exhausted. Especially from trying to hide that I love him.

"Why do you keep putting yourself out there for me, Skye?" Ward's honest incomprehension of this reaffirms his total lack of a sense of self-worth and shows me that vulnerable side of him that he keeps concealed from others. He strokes my back and I sigh against his neck.

"Why did you tell me you loved me?" I ask, stepping back and looking at him matter-of-factly.

"Because I do," Ward replies in that intense way of his that captivates and unravels me.

"Then you have your answer," I respond, watching as his face registers an understanding of what I'm saying, that I feel the same about him even though I'm not ready to put it in the exact words that he gave me so simply, easily, and freely. I can't be defenseless with Ward, not yet.

"Skye," Ward calls as I'm on my way out. I turn back around and he asks, "How do I start…making amends?" More words that sound like incredibly hard work for him to form and process.

"Talk to Fitz," I answer without hesitation. "See what he's going through. Apologize. Help us complete this mission to take a little bit more back from Hydra for everything they took from us. Start making up for what you've done."

Ward swallows hard, doubtless thinking about this suggestion and how it goes against everything he's ever been taught to believe about himself or how life worked. Garrett didn't instill a moral compass in his protege, instead leading Ward to value his own survival above all else, except following orders. "That's the worst, most impossible thing to do," Ward responds finally.

"Not quite," I smile archly, "I could have told you to apologize to May."

"She shot my feet full of nails and rendered me incapable of speech for weeks," Ward argued, raking a hand through his hair. "Don't you think she owes _me_ an apology?"

"No," I reply simply. "Trust me. Start with Fitz. This is the way to move forward."

"Oh, and I almost forgot," I add, reaching around the door of the cell to retrieve something I left outside. I hand the garment bag to Ward. "You'll need this for tonight."

His fingers cover mine on the hanger and my heart pounds incessantly. When Ward kisses me, his lips warm and inviting, his stubble deliciously rough against my skin, it's all I can do not to get swept away by desire and the craving to be closer to him. But this isn't the time or the place, and I'm not ready for that surrender. I force myself to leave, wondering all the while when we'll have a chance to touch again. Needing to know that the time will come and that someday, the towering impediments between us will topple.

A couple of hours later, I'm squeezing into a bright red cocktail dress that is _totally_ not me…but I suppose that's what going undercover is all about. I smooth the skirt out and sigh as Simmons hands me a stick of equally loud lipstick. Stepping back to survey my look in the mirror, I give a fire engine colored pout, and Simmons laughs.

"You haven't even seen the shoes yet," she notes, dressed considerably more subtly herself in a little black dress.

Simmons' job is to fade into the background and sneak around, while mine is to be a distraction when I need to. Mainly, it's Simmons' scientific knowledge, along with Coulson, May, and Tripp's tactical skills that will be called upon to get this done. Fitz will stay behind to monitor our progress and arrange help if needed. I'll be hacking the security system to gain the team's access to the tech. But otherwise, me and Ward are there to reprise our roles as Hydra wheelers and dealers, and hopefully this time we won't get busted mid-performance. We'll have the chance to more effectively establish ourselves with Hydra and gather additional insider details on upcoming operations.

"You look beautiful," Simmons remarks, patting some lip gloss onto her mouth and sitting delicately on my bed, pulling out her tablet and punching in some numbers.

"So do you," I say warmly, but she's clearly not thinking about dresses or makeup anymore.

Without making eye contact, Jemma murmurs quite distinctly, "May was right, you know. You need to be careful."

"I know that," I nod, realizing that every time someone else says that to me, my heart sinks lower in my chest. Balancing my relationships with my teammates and being true to my own integrity as well as my need to help Ward find redemption is a tricky proposition.

We head to the entrance area where the rest of the team is gathered, and there's Ward, looking somewhere between astonishingly sexy and distractingly handsome in his tux. His eyes meet mine and I can tell that he's a fan of the red number, so I fight off a blush that threatens to make my face match the dress.

Before we set out for the evening, May turns to Ward and says, "Put one foot out of line tonight. I'm begging you."

Ward just smirks and falls in line, impervious to her intimidating words. "I talked to Fitz a little while ago," He tells me quietly as we walk to the car.

"How did it go?" I'm dying of suspense to know what happened.

"About as badly as it possibly could have," Ward admits sheepishly. "I apologized and tried to explain that dropping the pod into the ocean was the only way I could think of to avoid killing him and Simmons. Fitz just glared at me and said, 'apology not accepted,' and then he left." I have to smile ever so slightly at Ward's exaggerated Scottish accent.

I stop, knowing we can only steal a second before we have to get to the car with the others. "Can't say I blame him, but at least you said you were sorry. Do you feel better?"

"I actually _do_ feel strangely better," Ward confirms. "Just don't ask me why. I mean, there's nothing I can do to make it up to him, so what good are words?"

"You'll figure it out," I promise him, and we start moving again, his arm brushing against mine. I bite my lip, trying not to explode from sexual tension and emotional pressure, _and_ trying not to trip in my satin heels.

"We should do this more often," Ward winks, "The high society look suits you."

He's shoved rather unceremoniously into the vehicle by May after that, but his eyes stay locked on me as I slide into the backseat across from him. It's going to be a very treacherous evening, I can already tell.

***Author's note:** the title of this story as well as the chapter titles are inspired by songs from the album _Trouble_ by Natalia Kills.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Take me to wonderland**

**Ward**

Here I am, going through the motions with these Hydra asshats again, pasting on my old smarmy and opportunistic mask to insinuate me and Skye into their conversations. We're actually a big hit, even though I constantly have to explain away her awkward flourishes to our cover story. That's because lying is _my_ game, not hers. Honesty, that trait that comes to her like breathing, was always one skill I thought I'd never get trapped into having to hone. Until recently.

Truth be told, that shock red dress of Skye's is distracting everyone to a perfect effect, and I'm collateral damage, trying to keep my head on straight. She doesn't have a clue how radiant and sultry she looks as she slides her foot in and out of her shoes, clearly dying to get to the end of the night so she doesn't have to wear them anymore. "What?" Skye asks me, as if worried by my pensive gaze landing on her so searchingly, "do you think they're onto us?"

"No," I answer as we watch a clique of politicians, trophy wives, and wealthy benefactors striding away from us. "They love us. We'll be hearing from them again." Part of the goal of this night is to make contacts who will follow up with us and provide chances for more undercover ops. We can root out Hydra from within like they did SHIELD. Pretty soon, they'll run out of heads, and maybe even the ability to grow new ones.

A tray of hors d'oeuvres goes flashing by in the hand of a busy server, and my stomach growls. "Food that's not prison slop," I pine, salivating.

"Go ahead," Skye smirks, "it'll give us an excuse to sit down if you're eating and then I can rest my feet."

I pile my plate with plenty of everything, adding extra helpings in case Skye wants some. Then I get a bad feeling, like a laser of pure hatred just landed on me. I look up to see May standing there, resentful in a forest green evening gown.

"_I know,_ okay?" I say, trying to stave off her angry rant, "I'm horrible, you'll kill me if I betray the team again, you'll kill me if I so much as look at Skye...basically, you'll kill me. It's on your wish list."

"I'm aware that you already know all that," May answers in a clipped tone, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, which it might actually be. "I want to tell you something you_ don't _know."

"What's that?" I ask, throwing on a nonchalant expression, my fingers itching to grab some of this expensive and fragrant food.

"Loving Skye is the only thing human about you. It's what gives you the chance to rebuild yourself and make a difference for the better, even though you don't deserve to. But it's also the same feeling that should tell you that you have to leave her alone. Don't drag her into your mess. What do you think her life is going to be like, tethered to a cold blooded killer who has destroyed every chance at redemption he's ever been given? Right now, the best chance you have for _real_ redemption is to walk away from Skye and set her free from all the ways you're going to ruin her life if you don't." Even though May's voice is harsh and her words sting like grain alcohol on a gaping wound, there's a tiny glimmer in her eyes that almost amounts to sympathy. That's the worst part of all.

My hunger flees in an instant and my mouth feels like it's full of sandpaper. May's right, and I've come far enough into the light now to see it.

She gets a buzz in her ear from the other team members, who are busy retrieving the tech. As May slips away to confer with Coulson via radio, I find Skye sitting in front of an untouched martini that a slick, silver-haired man is sliding closer to her.

"Honey!" I grin, sitting next to Skye and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I got your shrimp puffs!" I place the absurdly over-piled plate down and let my eyes drift from Skye's grateful face to the debonair guy who's now staring at me inquisitively.

"Grant Ward," I introduce myself in a warm, confident, self-congratulatory tone, reaching across to shake his hand.

"Mark Jeffries," he replies, laughing as he adds, "had I realized that this stunning creature was not here alone, I wouldn't have tried to bore her with my attentions."

_Creature? _She's not a zoo exhibit. I smother my irritation and my desire to break Jeffries' arms for the way he's still eying the neckline of Skye's dress.

"No problem. Skye has admirers everywhere we go. Isn't she lovely?" I move even closer to her and place my hand across her lap, lightly touching her knee.

"Aren't you laying it on a little thick, _baby_?" Skye asks, shivering against my touch as if involuntarily. I wish that she called me that every day instead of tacking it on to sell a cover. I wish I could take her far away from here where we could just breathe and fall together without outside judgement or interference. But as it is...

"Not in the least," I insist, kissing her hand gallantly, "What's your line of work, Jeffries?"

Jeffries blinks his grey-blue eyes a few times and then sits back, crossing his legs. He takes a sip of whiskey and replies, "Talent acquisition. Your name is familiar to me, actually. John Garrett has always spoken highly of you, Ward." The way we both call each other by last name reflects a friendly rivalry mixed with camaraderie I find both hilarious and slightly nauseating. "Though I must confess he said nothing about this enchanting nymphet."

Is this guy for real? Skye covers up a giggle by finally taking a gulp from the drink he brought her, which I seriously hope isn't drugged or anything. Smooth or not, Jeffries is an evil bastard and and obviously, he doesn't particularly care who can tell.

"Hydra depends on my discerning skill for identifying agents with special abilities which can be applied to get in and out of..." Jeffries winks at Skye. "Tight places," he finishes with an oily panache.

"What kinds of tight places?" Skye wonders, mainly to cut the tension she can feel stiffening my posture.

"Well, for example, I've got just the kind of job that an attractive and brilliant young couple like yourselves could pull off to perfection. It requires a bit of deftly engineered subterfuge to extract a valuable and ancient book from a highly guarded location. I know we just met and perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but…any interest?"

Skye's eyes sparkle and I can tell she'd love nothing more than to ruin a Hydra plot like this. Whatever the hell's in that ancient tome, surely it's dangerous and powerful, or they wouldn't want it. "Where do we need to go?" She asks, closing her fingers around mine as they rest against her knee. Getting the bad guys makes Skye so damn happy. I wish I had the ability to bring her joy like that. And I envy the simple, knee-jerk purity of her goodness.

Jeffries lays out a plan where he would arrange accommodations for us in Paris, as well as supplying us with the tools needed to access a secret chamber in a very old library. Without so much as glancing in my direction for some much-needed silent advice to say _no_ to this creep just on principle due to the way he makes my skin crawl, she agrees excitedly to his proposal. Wait. Did I just think the word "_principle_"? I really am losing it.

When Jeffries slinks away, promising that he'll be contacting us shortly with further details, I turn to Skye, reluctantly pulling back from her slightly so that we can have a more serious conversation.

"You can clearly see that this guy is a thinly veiled psychopath. And the veil is made out of letch. Any object he's after is guaranteed to be full of trouble we might not be ready for, the kind we can't predict." I shoot Skye a glance that's slightly accusatory.

"So? Since when are you afraid of a little_ trouble_? I thought trouble was what you were made of," she reminds me challengingly, finishing her drink and leaning back in her chair like the coolest customer in the world. She's so adorable, it kills me.

"You'll do anything to stop Hydra, won't you?" I can't help asking out of wonderment at her unstoppable attitude and bravery.

"No, not anything. I won't stoop to their lows. But aside from that, yeah, anything goes." Skye stands and slips the heels back on, wincing slightly. "Let's go. I've got to check in with Coulson and find out if they're finished. Then we can get his okay to head for Paris as soon as possible."

"And they say _I__'__m_ crazy," I mutter.

**Two days later****…**

It's eight hours nonstop to Paris, and since we leave at night and end up there in the morning, the smart thing would have been to sleep on the plane. But instead, I spend almost the whole time shifting nervously, flipping listlessly through the on-air entertainment channels, twisting empty packets of peanuts and watching Skye slumber peacefully, as if this is some kind of a vacation journey. I guess maybe this is karma for my flippant attitude the last time we were on a plane together. I've sobered up and repurposed myself a lot since then. Once blinded by selfish hopelessness and despair, now having held Skye again and kissed her, having heard her plead for me to keep trying even though everyone else had written me off…I've changed and there's no turning back.

She literally sleeps until the plane touches down, and the slight jostle of landing makes her stir slowly before her eyes flutter open and she sees me regarding her with an expression that must read near-panicked.

"Gah!" Skye complains, rolling her shoulders back and forth. "Why are you staring at me like that while I'm sleeping?"

"You're awake now," I note. "And I'm staring at you because I'm worried. I don't like the idea of this mission. You going deep undercover like this. You're not trained for it."

Skye frowns at me for giving her this speech for the thousandth time. "Well, I've got_ you _with me, mister number one deceitful lying deep cover mastermind deluxe. How can I go wrong?"

"Thanks a lot," I grumble, following her down the plane aisle then through the airport where we retrieve our bags and head for the hired car that sweeps us away to a swanky hotel milling with mysterious and shady looking guests, all dressed to the nines.

"Well, this is definitely the fanciest place _I__'__ve_ ever been in," Skye observes, turning a little circle in the hotel lobby.

"I would take you wherever you want to go, if you'd let me. _ Safe_ places." I'm still surprised that Coulson didn't seem to suspect that I'd kidnap Skye or just knock her out and escape, what with us finally being completely alone together. Is Coulson rolling the dice that my attempt at redemption is sincere? I'm oddly intimidated by the idea, and by the thought of living up to that whisper of the chance he might trust me again.

"This is where I want to go," Skye informs me emphatically, making me roll my eyes. But she slips her arm through mine and draws me into her orb of excited energy.

When we get to our suite, Skye is taken aback again by the extravagance of our accommodations. Everything is silk and cushion and smooth, fresh luxury. Huge, over-the-top floral displays top every table, and expensive chocolates lay atop each pillow. Skye unwraps one and pops it in her mouth, flopping down on the bed and bouncing slightly from the buoyant soft plushness of the mattress and its gazillion count sheets and duvet.

I sigh heavily and sink into a chair by the window, scowling out at the gorgeous view of the city that lays out before us like a promise of adventure. Dammit. What if I can't protect her?

"Lighten up, Ward. Holy role reversal!"

"_Someone_ has to have common sense here," I remark, wondering where the words are even coming from.

"You're acting like you did when I first met you, and I thought that personality was a front. Where's your sense of fun and mischief?" Skye turns over and props her face in her hands, her hair billowing out around her. She's back in her usual, casual attire of flannel and leggings, and could not be more beautiful.

I have to let out a chortle. "_Mischief_? What am I, an animated tomcat?"

"You know what I mean, Ward," Skye says, hopping down from the bed and getting perilously close to me. She pulls me by the hands back to the bed, where she kneels beside me and leans in seductively.

"Skye," I murmur, hesitating, "Maybe this isn't a good idea. How can you trust me like this? You know who I am, what I've done. If I really love you…" I gaze at her lingeringly. "…and I _do_, I should let you go. Just be here with you to assist with the mission and make sure you get out okay."

"Is this you talking, or May?" Skye asks, leaning back on her hands and giving me an annoyingly all-knowing look.

"How did you know?"

"Because you'd never think of something that honorable on your own," Skye explains, not looking as disappointed about that as she probably should.

"Fake Me would," I point out, dejected and bitter. "'Grant Ward, Agent of SHIELD.' The guy you fell in love with."

"Hey," Skye says sharply, tipping my chin with her finger so that our eyes meet. "I love _you_." I feel my heart stop for a second in total disbelief that she just said that. "The guy underneath," she continues. "Despite all the problems and the trouble and the darkness…I see the real you and that's who I want. Not some artificial ideal of a perfect soldier. I always knew there was something more underneath, and that's what drew me to you. And yeah, you've terrified me on more than one occasion. Sometimes I've hated you, and wanted you to pay for what you did. But even then, I loved you, too."

"Skye…" I trail off, not knowing if I can keep up my honorable approach in the face of this.

"Ward," she answers, brushing away my inhibitions. "We're here, _now_, in this amazing place, and we actually have some time before we have to leave and risk our lives to get that book back to SHIELD. I thought we'd never get a chance like this, so let's not waste it. Please, be with me."

***Author****'****s note:** the title of this story as well as the chapter titles were inspired by songs from the albums _Trouble_ and _The Perfectionist _by Natalia Kills.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: sweet disaster**

**Skye**

Ward lets me kiss him once, softly, but he's still holding back from me. I can feel something coiling and tightening inside me, a desire that's about to snap and leave me to bleed if he keeps me at arm's length a moment longer. The aching need I have for him to take me over is like nothing I've ever experienced before. I'm not this girl, this person made desperate by love, or at least I never have been before.

Now all bets are off. I don't know how Ward does this to me, and I don't even care anymore.

"How about _you_ trust _me?_" I suggest, intertwining our fingers. I know he might fear giving in to the force that keeps drawing us together, and that he's had so little affection shown to him in his whole life. Lost and adrift, Ward keeps telling himself he shouldn't take the life preserver I offer.

"Just let go," I urge him soothingly, and finally he returns my embrace, pressing his lips to mine warmly, his broken soul reaching out to me. I can breathe again.

Warm quickly turns to hot and before I can collect my kaleidoscopic tangle of thoughts, I'm lying beneath Ward and our hands are all over each other in a delicious frenzy of seized-upon taboos. Everything I told myself we'd never do because every modicum of logic and safety ought to stand against it? That's what I want, all that and beyond, over and over until I finally feel satiated...which, judging by how I feel right now, could be never.

I pull off his gray cotton t-shirt and run my hands over his overwhelmingly perfect body, which is marked by all kinds of scars I can't begin to imagine the myriad origins of. It breaks my heart and makes me cling closer to him, wanting to leave him in no doubt of the depth of my feelings. The last remains of the commitment phobe, love fearing, keep-it-light part of me are drowned by the deluge of emotion Ward sets loose in me. I feel freer now than I ever have in all my years of sweet, sugary and wispy flirtations with boys who would never be able to find this fragile, longing strain within me. Free in the expression of this love for Ward that is so forbidden on almost every level, a love that could quite literally destroy me.

Under my touch, the arms in his muscles tense and he says my name in a low, throaty voice that makes me dizzy with arousal. I sit up and he unbuttons my shirt with a painful slowness I can just barely handle. As he undoes the clasp in the front of my bra, the undergarment falls from my shoulders, one more lost remnant of my defenses against him.

I want him to stop torturing me.

"Don't be careful with me," I whisper as he trails his hand down my thigh, "Show me what you want."

"That's not going to be a problem," Ward murmurs back, and from the heated press of him against me, I know he's not lying, even if he is still teasing me.

I find the button of those dark washed jeans of his, the ones I've been admiring on him for hours, and urge their swift removal. Ward reciprocates by flipping me over and holding me there with the gentlest, yet somehow most insistent touch of his hands on my wrists. Now I'm actually panting a little bit, completely held in thrall by his every move. As Ward's mouth moves from the sides of my breasts to my back, I shiver at the tantalizing promise of his exploration…and then he peels off my leggings.

I need to look him in the eyes so badly that my move to turn over comes out jerky and aggressive, leading us to lose what's left of our bearings to the extent that we roll right off the bed and land on the floor.

Shocked by the impact, I wince, "Ow!" Ward laughs infectiously.

"You always have to have what you want, _when_ you want it, don't you, Skye?" Ward lifts me slightly so that I'm half-lying with my back against the bed. He hovers over me with a sexy smile full of implications that make my head spin. "Is this how it's always gonna be with you?"

I grin back and wrap one leg around him, returning his challenging look with one of my own. "Absolutely," I assure him.

"Good," Ward replies, raising my other leg to lock around his hips as every remaining boundary between us crumbles helplessly, never to be seen again.

**Ward**

I fall asleep afterwards, and it's the longest, most deep and peaceful sleep I've experienced in…longer than I can remember, actually. I'm jostled awake by a loud, enthusiastic knock at our door, and as I sit bolt upright in bed, Skye glances at me nervously, her leg strewn across mine as she flips through mission files.

"Who's that?" Skye mouths, her lips still a little swollen from the thousands of kisses we shared, making me want to grab her and start all over again. Annoyed that we can't stay in this paradise of isolation, safe from the demons of reality, I climb out of bed and throw clothes back on. Except my shirt. Let our guest be left with no mystery as to the closeness of my relationship with Skye. Serves the slimy bastard right after the way he was eying her up at that party.

"Jeffries," I mouth back to Skye, and out loud I shout, "Be right there!" in an overly chipper tone. I've just got time to run to the bathroom and brush my teeth before our Hydra contact becomes impatient.

Skye slips her clothes back on and looks a little sheepish at our being caught in such an intimate scenario by not only a stranger, but a criminal and an enemy. I've learned to take my moments where I can get them in this life, so I back her up against the wall for a quick, deep kiss, enjoying her breathlessness as we part. She swats at me playfully in admonishment for this delay in answering Jeffries, and I wink at her shamelessly.

"Jeffries!" I proclaim, opening the door and ushering our host in. He's all decked out in a spotless white summer suit and matching hat. Skye's right, Jeffries does look like a villain from an _Indiana Jones_ movie. "Thank you for the charming…accommodations," I say, and my flirtatious glance back at Skye makes her flinch at my bold attempts to goad our very best frenemy when we ought to be buttering him up.

"I'm so glad you're both comfortable," Jeffries replies, unbothered, helping himself to a seat and removing a folder from his briefcase.

"Are those the plans for the library?" Skye asks, intrigued by the prospect of finding the secret passageway where the all-important book is hidden.

"So they are, my inquisitive little minx," he says, swiping a finger down Skye's cheek, then laying the papers all over the table. I'll give Jeffries this much: he_ refuses_ to take a hint. Looking at the blueprints and intricate guide, we can see the route that will take us to the book, and all of the tiny hidden locks that must be undone to get in, as well as the traps that'll probably be hell to overcome.

"I hope you two do well with water," Jeffries observes, wheeling one of those absurd little travel cases that people feel the need to drag with them through airport lobbies and placing it in front of us. Inside, there's a bunch of very high end scuba gear. Skye grins.

"You bet we do," she assures him, lifting a wet suit from the case.

"I thought I could guess your size rather well," says Jeffries, letting his eyes flit between me and Skye in a snake-like manner. Which one of us will be more offended or amused by his comments? It's a game he clearly enjoys, but I'm too restless and irritated to humor him.

"We'll be down there at closing time," I promise as Jeffries makes to leave. "See you afterwards at the rendezvous point." _Not,_ I add silently.

"Remember," he charges us, "You must keep the book completely insulated on the way back. If so much as a drop of water touches it, the tome will be rendered utterly useless, and so will our efforts. Needless to say, that goes for the fire, too." _The fire?_ Before I can voice my surprise at this detail, Jeffries bids us a merry farewell with a hearty "Hail Hydra."

"Hail Hydra," Skye replies convincingly, and I follow suit, impressed with how much her acting has improved…and maybe a little scared by it, too. It was bound to happen: I'm having a negative influence on her. She's getting to be better at lying.

Once Jeffries is gone, Skye keeps going through the supplies and the plans, carefully thinking out our approach. "You're looking forward to this," I remark, sitting down at the table and leaning down to meet her eyes as she sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Looking forward to cracking a crazy-complicated code to access a chamber no one's maybe been in for centuries, a room almost no one knows exists, one that we have to swim through totally sketchy water underneath an ancient library to get to? All to steal something from Hydra that they consider more than worth that amount of work? Oh, hell, _yes_." Skye's optimistic energy lights her from within and does the same to me the longer I look at her. I guess she's having an influence on me, too.

"Don't forget the fire," I remind her, infusing the words with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"I know, what the _what,_ right?" She asks, still focused on the items she's sifting through. Totally unfazed. Then she looks up and catches sight of the worry in my eyes.

I wrap my arms around her tightly as she climbs onto my lap, a move essentially guaranteed to get her into more trouble. "Are you trying to get my attention?" I ask jokingly.

"What gave you that idea?" Skye asks with a beautiful smile that shifts to a questioning look. "Ward…what are you thinking?"

"That I wish we could just run away and never come back. Be together forever. Not have to give it all up in a matter of hours, when I'll be back under lock and key. _If_ we survive this mission."

"I wish that too, in a way," Skye admits. "But we can't solve our problems by running away." At my amused expression, she adds, "I know, I sound like a cheesy self help book. But we can't. SHIELD _matters_. What happened won't fade away no matter what we do. And what's happening now…that tells me there's a way for you to start over again the right way. Show the team that you're on their side now, and that you can change. Then we can be together for real, without losing anything else."

"I already have changed," I assure her, tracing the curves of her face.

"Great," Skye answers confidently, trust and conviction glimmering in her eyes. "Prove it. Let's get ready to go."

**Author****'****s note:** the title of this story and the chapter titles were inspired by songs from the albums_ Perfectionist _and _Trouble _by Natalia Kills.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: nothing lasts forever.**

**Ward**

I pull the first edition of _The Woman in White_ slightly forward on the shelf and we hear a click. It's just me and Skye in a massive, empty library with newly disabled security cameras. The musty old volume makes a creaky noise as it sets off some kind of hidden mechanism that clicks tellingly.

"That's it," Skye declares as the floor beneath our feet starts to shift and opens before us to reveal a steep staircase leading below ground._ Far _below ground. From her excited look at this, I know she's just barely suppressing the full burst of her zest for this cloak and dagger stuff. It feels oddly like how it was between us when I first started training her for SHIELD, and frankly, I'm not sure I want to go back to being the straight man to Skye the impulsive daredevil. The last time I played that part, she still ended up being shot nearly to death because I can't _always _save her. I believe without a doubt that she can accomplish anything she puts her mind to, but that basic instinct to protect her eats away at me all the same.

We make our way down a spiraling path that lets us off at the edge of a large, murky body of water. Skye immediately sets her bag down and starts to assemble her diving gear, unzipping her hoodie to reveal the skintight wetsuit that might be the only silver lining of this whole crazy night.

"I can _hear_ you worrying," She informs me curtly despite my silence, stepping forward to kiss me all too briefly. "I'm gonna be fine. I'll get the book and be back in five minutes. _You _just be ready to handle what comes next."

"Right," I nod dutifully, but then my arm shoots out and grabs hers and her eyes flash up to me, questioning. "Five minutes, Skye," I remind her, the nervous concern in my voice all too obvious. "I'm counting on you." This earns me another kiss and a nod of understanding at the deepest meaning of my words. Yeah, I'm counting on Skye. Losing her would destroy whatever the hell's even left of me. I'm holding onto her for all I'm worth, standing there letting her go.

She takes off and disappears into the black looking water so that she can pass through a narrow chamber and retrieve the book. I spend the time pacing back and forth, feeling useless and restless, unable to have any influence over whether or not she gets through this part okay. She needed me to trust her, and that's all there is to it.

I let out a huge breath of relief when Skye resurfaces a couple of minutes early, brandishing the book, which is safety encased in a waterproof sleeve.

"Wow," I congratulate her when she emerges from the water.

"That's_ right_, wow," Skye grins, handing me the book as she unzips her wet suit and shrugs on the spare set of clothes she's pulled from her bag. "Ready for the fire?"

"No," I reply with a laugh, helping her repack her gear.

That's about the time that we hear someone clapping behind us, and I turn around to see Jeffries standing there with an almost unfathomably smug expression. He's dropped the dapper gentleman look and sports all black attire, his gunmetal grey hair slicked back. He's confidently holding a gun aimed squarely at yours truly.

"I take it you're not here for moral support," I stall, praying this fool has some good villain monologuing in him so I can use the time thinking of a way to get the upper hand.

"How very astute," Jeffries replies, pleased to death with himself. Unfortunately, he doesn't feel the need to fill us in on his dastardly plans. "Come with me, my dear," he says, taking Skye firmly by the arm and urging her forward with the gun to her back.

"Garrett's going to be pissed when he finds out you betrayed us," I call after them.

"John Garrett is dead, and you will be too, soon enough. You two are not Hydra; you are idiots deluding yourself there's still a SHIELD to be agents of." Jeffries turns back and smirks, adding, "At least _she's _special. You, Ward, have nothing to recommend yourself to anyone. You're just a liar and a fake wherever you go. And you're not even good at _that. _Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take this book and this young lady and find out just how special she really is."

Skye steps on his foot hard, but Jeffries has no reaction except to tighten his grip on her. Despite Jeffries' clear implication that I ought to hang back if I'd like to live, I trail them at a slight distance, determined to overpower him once I get my moment. As we travel back towards the staircase, a wall of fire erupts in front of the way up and out. This has been activated by our removal of the book. Me and Skye were going to get past the flames using an extinguisher that Jeffries gave us prior to the mission, but now he has it, so I'd better make a move or I'll be trapped.

Sensing my presence, Skye glances back at me before kneeing Jeffries in the stomach and flinging him back at me, waving gun and all. I use his temporary moment of weakness to yank the gun from his grip, but Jeffries recovers himself rapidly.

"I should have killed you immediately, but there's just something so poetic about leaving you down here to slowly decay," Jeffries says raggedly, yet reflectively as ever. He doesn't look concerned about the weapon in my hand, but then, that's probably because he's handcuffed himself to Skye without my realizing it. He looms back as if he'll throw her into the fire.

"Don't even think about it, Ward," Jeffries warns.

"I thought you wanted to study me," Skye snaps at him darkly.

"Yes, I do…from _all _angles," he assures her, making my blood boil. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and I know I could do something desperate at any moment. "But I also plan to survive, and we need the book more than we need you," Jeffries explains. "So, 'Agent' Ward" - sarcastically - "how about you simply lower that weapon and I take the girl and the book and you stew down here for as long as it takes you to waste away and disintegrate."

It's the only way to protect Skye, so I nod stoically and lower my weapon.

"Ward!" Skye shouts at me as Jeffries blows a passageway for them through the flames with the extinguisher. The fire rages back on a second after the two of them have cleared.

"I'm starting to think it's just not my day, Skye," I call after her, knowing that come hell, high water, or as the case may be, both…I will get out of here. She needs me.

I hear the secret entrance close above me with a loud dragging noise that feels pretty damn final, but screw that.

I pace around for a minute trying to think of something, anything, to get me out of this problem. I recall that I still have my phone, though there's a thin enough chance there's reception down here. It's worth a shot, but who do I call? Then I remember who, out of all people, would know the most about busting out of a deep grave with few supplies on hand except for scuba gear and a med kit.

Dammit! I have to swallow so much of my pride (and a tangible fear of rejection that I try to ignore) that it's painful, but I dial the SHIELD bunker. When Coulson answers, I immediately ask to speak with FitzSimmons.

"Why would we help you?" Comes the tinny, slightly broken-up sound of Fitz's irate, accented voice. I've never been so happy to hear that sound, even if the reception is pretty sketchy.

"After everything you've done, you've got a hell of a lot of nerve-" Simmons chimes in, predictably.

"Shut up, both of you," I cut them off boldly. "If you want to save Skye, you'll do as I say."

That motivates them easily, and instructions flow from them at a rapid pace. Before I know it, I've McGyvered a fire extinguisher that they say should get me past the fire. Either that, or FitzSimmons are planning to kill me in revenge, but we're about to find out.

The force of the blast almost knocks me backwards, but I forge on as the air parts the fire and I leap through, my clothing ever so slightly singed. Otherwise, I'm fine, except that I've almost never been so pissed off in my whole life. Hoping that Jeffries never noticed the homing device Skye keeps clipped to her jacket, I switch on the GPS tracker on my phone and sure enough, there's her signal. If only it's really _her_ and not the tracker lying discarded in some gutter. I race back to our hotel suite, where I pick the lock as quietly as I can and slide in apparently unnoticed. I can hear Jeffries' slimily coercing voice from the other room, as well as Skye letting loose some fairly choice words in a louder voice of rejection and panic. And that's all I need to hear.

**Skye**

Jeffries unpacks the book and lays it out on the bed. It's a thick old volume with a gold-embossed cover accented by ornamental jewels and a title in some language I can't discern.

"I'd like you to open this, please," he requests, standing way too close for comfort. What a creepoid. This situation is seriously the worst.

"No thanks," I reply with a casual tone that fails to cover my fear, since my voice is quivering. "How do I know this book isn't going to suck my soul out or something? You're obviously curious to see what's going to happen, so why don't you try it out?"

"I'm not nearly as significant a player in this game as you are, Skye," Jeffies explains mysteriously. "Compared with you, I'm really just a messenger, or a currier, rather. While your allegiance to the agency formally known as SHIELD is a profound disappointment, we at Hydra truly hope we might change your mind about joining us. A woman of your talents is an indispensable one indeed."

"What the hell are you even talking about? A woman with…hacking skills and some basic military field training?" I furrow my brow trying to figure out what Jeffries could possibly mean, and wonder with a weird burst of instinct if it has something to do with my unknown origins.

"Is this because of…who I am…who my parents were?" I ask, not sure what to believe about any of that based on the scant details Coulson gave me last year, most of which seemed like a shroud to protect me from a frightening truth.

"Now you're getting warm," Jeffries confirms. He steps even closer and presses one of his repulsively sweaty hands into my thigh, groping my body aggressively as his hand moves upward. I think I'm gonna puke, or kill him, or possibly both at the same time.

Before I have time to react in any way, Jeffries is lying prone on the ground with a snapped neck and Ward is standing there slightly out of breath, with burn marks on his shirt but otherwise none the worse for wear.

"Ward!" I exclaim, "You can't just _kill _people!"

He doesn't even bother to answer this flimsy remark, which was born out of shock and a habitual attempt to aid in his comprehension of basic morality. Instead, Ward sweeps me into his arms and hugs me with a desperation I reciprocate, melting into him and feeling all the fear seep out of me like a sieve.

"Yes I can," comes his delayed response, "_If _they're threatening you. Under any other circumstances, I'll keep trying to do the right thing and stay on a better path, for you. But for the same reason, that's the fine print in my "no just killing" contract, okay?"

"Okay," I murmur with an almost hilariously easy surrender.

"Besides, I saw the look in your eyes. You were going to kill him yourself. I just saved you the trouble." I can hear the humor, yet the respect, in Ward's voice.

"You mean you don't think I'm that girl who always needs to be saved?" I wince at the self-conscious suggestion on my part.

"Hell no," Ward replies, "I've never thought that. I feel sorry for anyone who crosses you, as my own track record proves. You can take care of yourself. I just_ like_ taking care of you."

"I think I can handle that," I answer with a slightly shaky smile, drawing back to peek at Jeffries' corpse. "Well, Hydra knows who we are. We'd better grab the book and get it back to the bunker so FitzSimmons can figure out what makes it tick."

"Skye," Ward says slowly, thoughtfully, "I heard what Jeffries said. Don't ever open that book. Let Fitz and Simmons do it, alone. I don't know what these "special" qualities are that people say you have, but they sound…"

"Powerful," I finish with a shudder, not ready to deal with that notion yet. I cross my arms and step over Jeffries on my way out. I feel isolated by my different-ness, and I wonder if someday learning the truth will take that chilling sensation away.

"Well, you've always had a powerful effect on me," Ward admits with a grin intended, like the words, to soothe my frazzled nerves.

"Ouch," I respond to the bad pun, watching him carefully pack up the book and slip it into his own bag. I ought to be suspicious that Ward may plan to take the book for himself and escape from me during our trip back home. I should _expect _him to do that. But I don't somehow. I just don't.

"Let's go home," Ward says warmly, even though 'home' for him is a plain, sad little cell that I can't save him from. I marvel at his ability to put my comfort above his own feelings on the matter of returning to SHIELD, which can't be anything but dread.

"Ward, I'm sorry you have to go back into lockdown," I remark, though this also makes little sense. I know he earned the sentence, and then some. Love hasn't blinded me; it's just made me wish for impossible things.

"I want to go back there," Ward assures me, putting a hand on each of my shoulders, his brown eyes shining with an honesty that his former jaded self would never have let me see. "I need to be wherever you are. So the accommodations are less than pleasant. I'll survive. I always do."

"That's because you're trouble," I remind him with a sly smile. Then I take his hand, and I can't help flashing back to that horrible day I found out he was a traitor and had to pretend I still wanted to walk with him like this, like an affectionate new couple. As much as that memory haunts me, I know now that this is what I want, the feeling of his strong fingers laced through mine. He's not the man he was then, and I understand things about him that I never thought I could. In the eye of a storm, the connection between us is that still point that we can both believe in and cling to, and I know that I can keep holding on no matter what. Because, most impossibly of all, I'm learning to trust Ward again. And most terrifyingly, yet most exhilaratingly of all, I love him more than ever.

"Okay," I say finally, swinging our joined hands slightly as we leave the suite and Jeffries' body behind. "Let's go home."


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue: activate my heart**

**Skye**

I know it's crazy, but somehow, I can't sleep unless I go to him. It's easier now that I've gotten used to the feeling, though.

I have to fight the urge to take two stairs at a time as I descend into the depths of the bunker, where Ward has once again been hidden away. But once I've found my way to his cell, I feel my heart almost stop when I find it empty and abandoned. Panic washes over me, and I lose all pretense of normalcy, calm, or decorum as I rush straight to Coulson's office.

Okay, I never had decorum.

"Skye," Coulson begins, putting a hand up as if he can somehow prevent my tirade by foreseeing it. I don't think so.

"Where is he?" I demand tempestuously, my hands perching on my hips of their own volition. If it were actually possible for steam to be coming out of my ears, I'm pretty damn sure it would be.

"He's in his room," Coulson replies in a slightly strained yet patient voice, topping it off with a small smile. A complex expression indicating a unique blend of hope and trepidation, mixed with affection for me.

As surprise hits me again, I relax my grip on the anger towards Coulson I'd been so ready to unleash when I should have known better. I guess Coulson can be so tolerant of my temper because the motivation hews close to his own attitude towards Director Fury after learning about well, Tahiti.

"His_ room_?" I repeat incredulously, dropping exhaustedly into a chair.

"I decided that after recent events, Ward had earned an upgrade in accommodations," Coulson explains, the sternness he tempers the words with showing me that this concession is not intended to dismiss Ward's past crimes. "He can be allowed back out in the field when his skills are called for and when we know we can control him," Coulson continues, "and that's it."

"That's more than enough," I concede, smiling in gratitude that Coulson recognizes Ward's capacity for redemption. "If you give him time, I know he'll prove that he's changed," I add eagerly, still hardly able to believe the change in myself lately where Ward's concerned.

"It's not going to be easy, Skye," Coulson says fairly obviously. "As you can imagine, May and FitzSimmons are not happy about giving Ward another chance to prove _anything._ And none of us trust him or can actually be around him without our skin crawling a little."

"But?" I ask, knowing there's more to it.

"But," Coulson acknowledges with a nod, "there's always that hope."

I lean forward, a conspiratorially joyful glint doubtless flashing in my eyes. "Exactly."

That hope, that the guy who was our trusted teammate, who we cared for and believed in, was at least a _part _of who the real Ward is? That he could evolve past years of Garrett's conditioning to be the good man he somehow seems to long to become? It's what I'm holding onto with all my might. I love Ward too much to ever let go.

**Ward**

"So you heard," I greet Skye as she enters my new living quarters, looking like she's still reeling from this unexpectedly positive turn of events.

"Ward," Skye entreats me, reaching up to take my face in her hands, "this is your _chance_. You have to show that you deserve it."

I gaze at her beautiful imploring face, alight with a love I never thought I could warrant or be worthy of. That's something I still don't know, as hard as I strive to become the guy she needs me to be. How could I ever deserve this chance after everything I've done?

"Don't do that," she groans, pulling me lightly by the arms until we're both sitting on my simple, but considerably improved bed.

At my raised eyebrows, Skye rolls her eyes. "Don't do that thing where you doubt yourself, doubt _us_," she clarifies warily. "You are not a bad man, Grant Ward, so don't give me that speech again."

"I could never doubt us," I insist, pulling her into my arms and sighing into her shoulder. I raise my head and run my fingers through that ridiculously gorgeous hair of hers. "But as for trusting myself? I'm a long way off. I've done things no one should be forgiven for."

"I know," Skye agrees, looking pained as she's forced to again swallow the bitter pill of loving someone so depraved when she herself is so unbelievably good. I can't stand putting that burden on her, but she cuts me off as if she knows I'm about to offer to let her go. To free her from me, now that - through much trial and error - I've woken up to myself, to reality.

"But you have to stop thinking it's too late," she insists softly, more serious than I've ever seen her. As if to prove the conviction of her words, Skye presses her lips to mine and I feel all my resistance to her, to the insane hopes she incites in me, evaporate.

At different times, it's terrified, disturbed and amused me, or kept me going when I thought there wasn't a hint of decency left in me, but there's one simple fact I've never been able to hide from. I love Skye, more than I thought myself capable of caring for anyone or anything. She makes me believe anything is possible...even that I might be more than a hideous blight on the universe masquerading as a slick career criminal. Even that.

"I want to tell you I'm a lost cause, to stop fighting for me, stop believing in me, to leave me alone to try and make something out of my life that's worth _anything_...but to spare yourself from the inevitable wreckage of what a total ass I am." I feel the words falling out of my mouth so easily, the truth unfurling.

"But?" Skye remarks archly, smirking like the total know-it-all she is. It drives me crazy, like everything about her does.

"I can't say no to you. I never could," I confess with a helpless shrug. She smiles at me and I watch the purity of her being light her from within. Whatever she _is,_ whatever the big secret is about Skye's origin, she's no monster, despite Raina's foreboding words and Jeffries' shady implications. Everything I know tells me that if anything, she's about as close to an angel as a human can get. Skye's ability to love the devil is the ultimate irony of this.

"Then don't," Skye demands irresistibly. "Come with me on this journey. Let's do this together, let's see what you're really made of."

"You know I'm just going to let you down," I say in a last ditch kind of a way.

"_Maybe_," Skye admits like she doesn't believe it at all anymore, like she's just humoring me.

"But?" I ask, curious about her reasoning.

"Ward," she replies, tracing my cheekbone with her fingers as her eyes blaze with the conviction of sweet, complete devotion. "You should know this by now. There's _always_ that hope."


End file.
